


elasticity of the heart

by lokidreamsinbw



Category: Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bondage, Depression, Dominant Thor, Drug Use, Glove Fetish, Intersex!Loki, M/M, Threesome, Virgin Thor, intersex!thor, jotun!thor, sex in a public place, sexual adventures seeking loki, some more myth oriented, some of those will be au, will add more tags as i add more fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-06-14 01:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokidreamsinbw/pseuds/lokidreamsinbw
Summary: A collection of fics I've written for tumblr prompts.1. heart on the altar: Raised in Jotun captivity, half Jotun and half Aesir Thor must serve as a human sacrifice on his 18th birthday. (intersex!thor, Jotun!thor, virginal sacrifice.)2.split the apple: college student Loki puts up an ad on a sex app: interested in threesome+light (or not so light, your choice) bondage, Seattle area.  HOT GUYS ONLY. The brothers Thor and Baldur invite him to come to their beach house, taking him up on his offer.3. gloves: thor works as a graphic designer. One day he gets a curious box delivered to his cubicle. Includes sex in a public place, glove fetish)4:  play: head all wrapped up in a video game with Tony, Thor forgets all about fucking time with Loki. Loki's comes over to remind him. (blowjob)5: somewhere the survivor: lit teacher Thor has to make a choice once he finds out he's pregnant (intersex!thor, mpreg)6. sadness in gold: thor is sad. Heroin seems to make it better. (drug use, depression, loki is a loving little brother)7. three: thor walks in on a threesome (taneleer/loki/gast, office setting)





	1. heart on the altar

The fabric arrives in the early hours of the morning. Two beings silent in their black robes deliver it in a sleek wooden crate to the seamstresses waiting outside in the cold.

Loki watches from his chambers as the seamstresses take out the fabric and, each gripping one end of it, let it unfold. It falls open like a weightless wave. The wind whistles through the tight stitching, making the fabric sway and flutter. A soft rectangle of pristine white. Looks a bit textured, like sand.

The seamstresses will sew it. Make holes for the arms and legs. It will have short sleeves. Will reach mid-thigh. They’ll add a golden sash to help tighten it around the waist.

Loki moves his knuckles over his lips as he watches them pointing at different areas of the fabric, discussing where to snip and where to stitch.

They will be making a tunic for Thor. Sacrificial garments.

It will be the last thing he will ever wear.

*

When Thor turned sixteen, he bled for the first time.

He disappeared one morning and could not be found. King Laufey sent his men in search of him. Into the forest they went, giants and beasts.

Cold fog, warm horses breath, black tree branches looking like bolts of lightning against the backdrop of the swamp-colored skies. Noisy foot threads, swirling silence as thick as honey, the sweet scent of the dormir frost flowers sticking like sap to the tree trunks.

Loki found Thor hiding inside an icy cave.

Thor rolled up the tunic he always slept in, showed Loki the large smears of blood on his inner thighs, presenting Loki with his shiny red palms, frightened and helpless.

It was pooling under him, coloring the brittle leaves and twigs, filling the darkness and dampness of the cave with this salty, earthy smell and Loki’s nostrils flared.

He still remembers Thor’s bare feet—fleshy toes and nimble ankles. He remembers how the freezing wind carved slashes into his lips, how it picked the tears off his bottom lashes and dragged them across his cheekbones and into his hair.

Taking a seat beside him, Loki explained it to him—the mystery and beauty of creation, how Thor’s body readies itself every three months to make room for another soul to settle and grow inside it, how his uterus sheds its salmon-pink lining like a snake sheds its skin, how the pain pinching through his belly can make him seek both solitude and comfort.

There was no one to explain this to Thor. His father, Odin, a former war prisoner, died in Jotun captivity when Thor was eleven years old.

Loki told him about the first time he himself bled. Waking up one morning with blood trickling down his left thigh, pooling just behind his knee, he panicked. A maid once told him a story of a corrupt being, a warrior who had betrayed his country and turned on his own men, slaying them one by one. Years later, he was found dead in his bed, lying in a pool of his own blood. No entry wounds were visible anywhere on his body. Legend has it that he was slain by his fallen warriors as he slept. It made Loki believe he was corrupt as well.

Loki gave Thor his cloak. Wrapped it around him so the bloody tunic wouldn’t show for Thor was ashamed, ears and cheeks blazing red.

*

King Laufey commanded to collect Thor’s blood, mix it into the materials they used to build houses in the wind-swept cities of Jotunheim.

Thor was both Jotun and Aesir. King Laufey and his council believed that his blood would increase fertility in every household that will carry it in its foundations.

Collected every three months, they emptied the contents of the small ceramic dishes into the clay mix. They stirred it with a long stick until the shiny blood was no longer visible. The workers returned home every night with the smell of salt and rust on their hands while more and more houses dotted the grey horizon.

The tenants would press their palms to the walls then bring them up to their lips to kiss before going to bed, for a successful coupling.

In Laufey’s castle, the servants would offer Thor large slabs of meat, to replenish the blood he had lost. He would nap during the day, short fluttering periods of dreamless sleep, the way the sick rest, a steaming cup of tea by his bed. Loki would prepare the tea himself, despite his father’s orders that the servants do it. He would simmer red hibiscus flowers in water and add the juice from one lemon. The snow would fall outside and Loki would watch the tea boil, entranced by the flowers quivering on the water.

*

One time, they bled together. They spent a whole day curled up in Thor’s bed.

The maids walked in and changed the sheets often. They’d wring out the used ones, let the blood trickle into a container, the sound of the falling drops echoing in the silence of the castle.

Hugging Thor from behind, Loki put one hand on Thor’s belly and buried his face between his shoulder blades.

“It feels like dying,” Thor said, laying his hand on top of Loki’s, “and being reborn again. Built anew blood vessel by blood vessel.”

Loki blinked against the back of Thor’s neck, watching over Thor’s shoulder the rain’s shadow playing across the walls.

“The maids,” Loki said, “how will they tell your blood from mine?”

“They won’t,” Thor said after an extended period of silence, “like mine, your blood will be in the walls , too.”

*

That same night, Laufey warned Loki not to touch Thor.

Sitting in his throne of ice and stone he said: “for the gods of everlasting winter to accept our sacrifice, the son of Odin must remain untouched, untainted, until the time comes to spill his blood. Stay away from his chambers, Loki. Banish the childish feelings from your heart. He is not to go on living, that he too knows and accepts. To this he agreed, to show his gratitude to me, for sparing his father’s life so many years ago. He is at peace with it. I’ll ask the same of you. Control your heart, boy. Stay away from him. Otherwise you would bring death upon our heads.”

*

Loki did as his father said. He stopped visiting Thor’s chambers for the last four months before the ritual was to take place. It was hard, keeping his distance from him. Loki’s heart rebelled against it.

Thor would come knocking on his door ; would try to get his attention by casting a ray of light into Loki’s chambers—letting a shard of glass catch the grey sunshine in the mornings and twinkle in Loki’s line of vision for minutes at a time for their windows were facing each other ; would follow him into the ghastly gardens filled with statues carved out of ice.

“Have I done something wrong,” Thor would ask and Loki would reply with silence.

*

The night before the ritual, Loki breaks his silence.

By candlelight, they converse in whispers inside Thor’s shadowy chambers.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Loki says and the black wind moves the heavy curtains, making the faint orange candle flame blink sleepily.

Thor can’t stop looking into Loki’s eyes. The long time they spent apart felt like forever to him.

“Your father has shown us nothing but kindness. Father died in his sleep, inside his heated chambers. He was not slain out on the battlefield, left to choke on his own blood. He lived a long life. Your father took care of his every need. He gave me this room, put food in my mouth, a roof over my head. For all those I am grateful, and accept my fate without fear.”

The white tunic sits inside a box by Thor’s bed, glowing in the darkness like a ghostly light.

“Your father explained to me that it will be you who will spill my blood before the others use my body as they wish,” he blinks up at Loki, his innocent eyes a thing of great beauty, “is it true?”

Take away Thor’s innocence was what Loki was meant to do, pave the way for the others to enter him as well and be blessed with a long life and fertility, that his body had the ability to give. After it was over, they were to let the cold steal the breath from his lips, the rhythm from his heart. Some speculated Thor would be able to see the winter gods descending in a circle of light before his heart gives its final beat.

Loki nods and his eyes sting.

Thor gives a small smile.

“Will you hold my hand as they make use of my body,” he says softly, “that way, I will not be alone and the cold would not seem so great.”

“I shall hold it now as well,” Loki rasps and takes Thor’s hand in his.

A soft kiss in the flickering light. Loki’s tears on Thor’s lips like dew on flower petals.

*

The great temple is all pillars and no walls. The stone floor is covered in bits of ice and snow powder.  The altar—a slab of cold grey stone.

Thor’s white tunic stands out in this temple of bronze-colored pillars and flat roof. He walks barefoot, golden sash swaying around his young hips and the crowd follows. He walks with ease, the wind ruffling his golden curls, sweeping snow across his toes.

The gods gift the Jotuns with snow for they approve of what’s to come and the Jotuns are happy,

Wearing his black robes, Loki follows, trying to keep his heart from feeling. But when Thor lies down on the altar and his hair slips over its edge as he tilts his head back to look at the snow falling through the open parts of the ceiling, Loki’s heart clenches inside his chest because it looks like Thor is already slipping into that eternal dreamless sleep.

They sing a prayer. Thor follows the puffy snowflakes with his eyes as they slowly fall, and the ancient language snakes between the pillars like a mythical undying being.

Thor blinks up at the sky as someone pushes the tunic up his thighs, exposing the masculine and feminine parts of him, his blessing.

The singing continues without pause and the gold tiara feels heavy on Loki’s hair as he walks up to the altar, silky robes swaying around his ankles.

Thor gives a tearful smile when he sees Loki’s face—those eyes with their soft ember color and his hair like the color of cooling ashes.

Loki puts his hand on Thor’s heart and Thor touches it, thick gold bracelets catching the wintery light.

“Today we bleed together,” Loki says and when he tries to smile his face crumples and his lips quiver.

Thor squeezes his hand and Loki brings his palm to rest on Thor’s belly.

His thumb reaches past Thor’s cock and slips between the soft pink folds. He moves his fingers in a circle over Thor’s clit, slow and gentle and Thor throws his head back, blinking up at the strange skies that have stood there over his new home for the past ten years, ever since he was eight years old.

When Loki enters him, Thor lets out a soundless scream and reaches for Loki’s hand. Loki takes it and holds in between their bodies as he slowly thrusts inside him, trying not to think that what is making it so easy for him to move inside Thor is Thor’s blood. Loki feels its warmth. He feels when it starts dripping out. He hears the droplets hitting the stone floor, sliding into the crevice they dug just under the altar to catch the flow of blood.

Thor squeezes Loki’s hand hard, gritting his teeth through the pain.

“I’m sorry,” Loki whispers into Thor’s hair and Thor cries out as Loki goes deeper.

“I’m sorry,” against Thor’s ear, catching his tears with his fingers.

And Thor shakes his head, looking into Loki’s eyes and Loki wipes the snow and ice off Thor’s hair and tunic before he buries his face in Thor’s chest.

Thor is panting beneath him, trying to keep as still as he can and the faces looking at them, the figures standing in a circle around the altar chanting,  are nothing but shadows and wind and Thor closes his eyes as his belly is filled with Loki’s warmth and the wind is cold on his cheeks and forehead.

*

Loki holds Thor’s hand just like he promised he would.

They enter him, one after the other, as the temperature drops.

The smell of burning incense is everywhere, the swishing of fabrics, the hushed moans.

At first, Thor is shivering violently. His fingers stiffen and his skin turns raised and bumpy, the golden hairs on his arms standing up, teeth chattering, breath shaky and coming out in short abrupt bursts. His hand shakes in Loki’s hand and Loki hold on to it tighter, trying to cover it as best as he can as if believing that if he manages to keep his hand warm, it will warm up Thor’s entire body and he wouldn’t die.

Robes swirl over their heads, hands brush against them and the fresh scent of snow sticks to their mouths and hair.

*

Bloody footprints on the stone floor, merciless cold, and Thor grows silent. His eyes move sleepily over the pillars, connecting the falling snowflakes in his mind to create shapes and faces: his father’s bearded face, his mother’s smile. In his head he hears Loki laughing sweetly over something Thor said, while Loki presses his tear-stained face into Thor’s shoulder, begging him not to fall asleep.

*

The crowd disperses.

Rows of shadows walking into the night, wind under the lapels of their cloaks, snow powdering their shoulders.

Fingers close around Loki’s upper arm, digging into the flesh, pulling him up to his feet, forcing him to let go of Thor’s cold hand.

“Come Loki,” King Laufey says.

When they exit the temple, Loki looks over his shoulder.

Thor sleeps on the altar, chained to it by the ankles using gold cuffs and chains that twinkle in the moonlight. His breath comes slow, long pauses between each one, falling deeper and deeper into a terrible darkness. He can’t even feel the cold anymore.

There’s blood on his knees, on his claves, between his toes. There’s blood on the hem of his white tunic.

King Laufey and his son walk into the blizzard. It roars without making a sound.

*

When Loki returns to the temple during the night, stumbling through the snow, marching against the slashing wind, Thor breathes his final breath.

The exhale—a single sigh, and Thor’s arm drops to his side.

The bracelet falls off his wrist and lands in a sparkling pile of snow.

*

Loki works on Thor’s heart until his hands go numb and the tears blind him.

The temple stands silent around them, every archway a different path leading to the afterlife.

The darkness presses in on them, like swirls of damp fog and the moon hides its face.

*

In that complete absence of light, Thor gasps into Loki’s mouth.

Fearfully, searching for Loki’s eyes in the darkness he breathes: “what have you done?”


	2. split the apple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for a tumblr prompt asking for a threesome with Thor, Loki and Baldur.

So when did Loki really start getting into the whole threesome thing? He can’t even remember.

As Loki thinks about this, he reaches into a paper bag full of apples he just got at the store and took with to eat in bed, knife in hand, eyes on his phone cause he just put a message out on some sex app:

_interested in threesome+light (or not so light, your choice) bondage, Seattle area.  HOT GUYS ONLY._

Attached a super dramatic selfie—lying in bed with no shirt on, head turned to the side on the pillow, forearm covering his eyes, mouth open on a moan—slapped a black and white filter on it to make it look artistic.

He did it before, the whole threesome thing. Only once, though. People usually want you to themselves, they don’t wanna share your bod with some other dude, so finding people that are into this thing for real and will do it with you is kinda hard. It was with these two surfer  dudes in some motel. They didn’t  take it to the extreme, they were pretty polite and it felt like he was being worshipped kinda instead of being used, when being used and feeling dirty was what he was going for so kind of a disappointment, but it still felt nice. One of them even gave him a ride back home and the other would have joined too but he had a night shift, so. And Loki ended up smoking on the balcony just going through the whole experience in his head. They just took turns fucking him. One was in him and the other one was close by, jerking off. The bald one gave him this really courteous look and went: “is it okay if I come on your chest” like super quiet and Loki was like “Yeah, sure” and he did, and then he asked “could you rub it into your hair, please? I really like that. But only if you’re comfortable with that.” And the other one was like: “tell me if I’m thrusting too hard. That’s okay so far, right? That feels okay?” Fucking unbelievable. And when it was all over and Loki showered there to wash all that sticky cum out of his hair, he looked at himself in the mirror and kinda went _fucking never again cause this was bullshit._

So this time Loki put in the bondage thing like take a hint guys, I want you to do what you want with me, just fucking use me and I won’t be able to do anything about it cause I’ll be all tied up.

Loki picks a yellowish apple. Tosses the knife onto the sheet and bites into it. It’s super juicy and it tastes delicious and Loki eats around the seedy part, watching the screen for new messages.

He gets one from this dude that goes like this: **screw the threesome honey. How ‘bout some alone time and I’ll make ya moan like that.**

Meh.

Loki wipes off the sticky juice from under his bottom lip, chewing with his chin in hand.

A few mins later another boring ass one.

**Wanna park my cock in that sweet mouth.**

And another.

**Let’s vid chat. I’ll show u something you never seen before.**

Uh-huh. Doubt that.

One apple down and Loki’s not sure if he should start catching up on his reading or just go for another apple cause fuck these guys are boring as hell today, just wait around, maybe something interesting will pop up. But the only book he has in close proximity is something Dickens and he’s not that crazy about his writing so he reaches inside the bag again and pulls out a really big apple. It’s dark red and the reason it’s so big is cause it’s in fact _two_ apples, joined together ‘at the heart’ some would say and Loki’s only seen something like this online but not in real life so he stares for a bit, then—

_Ping!_

A text and Loki loves the way it sounds:

**We’ll take you up on that offer.**

_We’ll._ That’s a good sign. Def. more than one dude.

Another text pops up on the screen.

**We’re brothers, tho. You okay with that?**

Fuck.

Fucking bros sounds motherfucking sexy and as his mind comes up with positions and stuff he doesn’t text them back on time so they text again going:

**Hope you’re down with this bc you look hot and an amazing fuck.**

Another text, right after that one:

**Screamer?**

Loki sets the apple in his lap and grabs the phone. Words like that, that’s how you get him to spread his legs for you and Loki texts back.

_Said hot guys only. You guys decent?_

A few secs later he gets a link to a pic and clicks on it and good thing he didn’t have any of that apple in his mouth cause he would have pulled a snow white and chocked on it cause these dudes are something else. Not only do they look like sex gods, they also look like they’d tear you in half.

They’ve got their arms around each other in a bro hug on some beach with the sun setting behind them. One is dirty blond, buzz-cut, sexy beard that makes him look like a warrior. The other has chin-length black hair slicked back, side lip ring and a neck tattoo that makes him look like a tough fucker.

One thing’s for sure: they didn’t lie about the being brothers bit, their faces are identical almost so they must be twins and Loki’s aroused mind just keeps going _there’s two of them omg._

 _Nice_ , he texts back. Too many compliments, they go straight up to the head.

And Loki picks up the apple again. Gets the knife. He slices the joined apples down the middle, separating one from the other and the knife flashes silver in their yellowish flesh.

The hybrid apple falls apart in his palm, two halves. It shows its tummy, filled with black seeds.

*

So the beach pic, Loki thought it had to be from some vacation or something, a trip to somewhere where you can ride the biggest wave and feel like you’re motherfucking Poseidon on a surfboard and the ocean is your kingdom.

Turns out the kinky brothers have a beach house and that’s where they set up to meet.

When Loki steps out of the car it’s the ocean to his right, beach house to his left—four stairs leading up to two large sliding doors that are all glass. It’s palm trees and blue sand cause the moon is on its way up, and it’s soft yellow light glowing inside the house and it’s micro explosions of adrenaline right in the center of his chest making Loki feel like he’s dipping his fingers into a bowl filled with crackling static.

Crossing his arms, Loki heads for the doors, giving his car one last look _in case I end up dead or something, it was nice knowing you._ There’s a chain of lights snaking round some of the trees in the back, twinkling amnesia-white and a cluster of purple-grey clouds spreading out in such a way it resembles dusty hills.

He’s getting sand in his shoes and it feels silky and cold between his toes and behind the sliding doors Loki spots a tiny bar, two stools and a painting of raining flower petals in pink and red and green bleeding into the soft canves.

Drawing his open jacket closer to himself, Loki’s eyes leap up to another rectangle of light, higher up—one of the bedrooms. Two if its walls are glass and above the bed hangs a giant painting of summer shadows.

Loki skips up the steps, hair bouncing off his shoulders, and when he gets to the doors he’s a little out of breath and the yellow light washing over his chin and cheekbones creates in his mind the illusion of warmth.

And this thought, nagging— _feels like you’re this super lonely whore coming to keep some clients company_. Loki’s comeback? Worse _than a whore, buddy, cause I just do this shit for free._ And then he gets this smile as he looks in cause— _fuck, maybe I **should** charge._

And he cracks his knuckles cause should he knock or just try the door and—

A big hand on the back of his neck all of a sudden, thumb under his left ear, fingers sneaking into his hair, stretching out like sizzling sun rays traveling through an alien planet.

A gruff voice in his ear: “found a trespasser.”

Giant hands yanking on his jacket from behind, a huge tall body pressed to his back, and between the man trying to pull his jacket off and Loki’s heart beating so fast it makes him dizzy, he manages to look over his shoulder and the whole you caught me by surprise thing has him saying: “no no no, I'm—” _the guy the two hot dudes in the dusted-blue beach house wanted to bang_ he wants to say.

The man presses his mouth to Loki’s left ear, breath warming the side of Loki’s face and says: “I know who you are.” Impatiently tugging on his jacket, back of Loki’s neck area: “take this off.”

And Loki feels the lip ring pressing into his earlobe like a cold half moon and lets his arms go motionless so he can take the jacket off for him.

Baldur throws Loki’s jacket over his shoulder and grabs at Loki’s elbows, mouthing at his ear: “hands behind your back, baby.”

Then his face appears from the left over Loki’s shoulder, twinkling eyes glinting all asshole-ish, “said you wanted bondage, right.”

All Loki can offer in response is a breathless mm-hmm and Baldur flashes him a giant grin that’s all teeth and when Loki brings his hands behind his back crossing them at the wrists for him, Baldur yanks on them and pushing a knee between Loki’s legs, he presses himself to the side of Loki’s body and his erection pokes Loki’s hipbone as he fastens a pair of zip ties all cop-style around Loki’s wrists.

“Fuck,” Loki breathes out cause this is fucking happening for real.

Baldur yanks on the zip ties and turns Loki’s head so he looks at him, with a sure grip on his chin, “yeah. Like that, huh. Well. Let me tell ya, I’m a huge bondage freak and you with your fucking delicious wrists right here gave me such a fucking hard on,  you’re gonna spend hours taking care of it.”

Yes, please.

Loki bites his lips hard cause what the fuck this guy is gonna kill him with the dirty talking.

Guiding him with a hand around his elbow, Baldur slides one door open and together they walk inside.

Loki is so nervous he keeps wringing his hands as Baldur slides the door closed, trapping the AC coolness inside.  The dim lights make Loki squint and blink and his jacket crackles on Baldur’s shoulder.

Baldur smells sweet and spicy like sugar and nutmeg and just a tiny bit of lemon that keeps Loki on his toes and when Baldur’s hand comes up to get Loki walking forward by gripping the back of his neck and applying some pressure, Loki bites his lips so hard they turn white cause feeling dominated and being manhandled like that just drives him crazy.

It’s glass panels and champagne-colored walls, bright white lights fixed high up  in the ceiling almost like in an office. Cool and smells like clean linen in there. Tidy closets and storage spaces.

Loki catches a hint of alcohol as they step together into the spacious living room where the other brother, Thor, is preparing some drinks for them at the bar (the stools look so comfy Loki wants to hop onto one but cuffed hands, might be tricky). And Loki’s mouth kinda falls open cause Thor is super gorgeous—strong jaw and witty eyes, a mouth to die for.

They’re like light and darkness, each hypnotic in his own way and it’s surreal to see.

Thor looks up all beard and short beach-blond hair, grey tank top, and when he spots the way Loki has his wrists behind his back he clicks his tongue at his brother with a twinkle in his eye.

“Hey, not exactly the best way to welcome a guest, Bal. It’s not a police station here.”

He gives Baldur a quick wink+cuffed wrists sign, then aims this playful yet all-seeing gaze at Loki, looking him over, “hey there sweetheart.”

He gives Loki a lopsided smile, “rough night?”

Loki smiles back like _ha!_ And Thor sets the vodka bottle aside, presses his palms flat against the bar, “I’m Thor.”

He then points at his brother, “this zip ties phenomena over there is Baldur. Zero tact. Basic needs: food, sleep, sex.  Doesn’t have to be in that order. Goes after what he wants when he wants it. Major fucking asshole.”

Baldur scoffs then moves his hand to rub the back of Loki’s neck, twisting Loki’s hair around his fingers.

“Enough about me,” Baldur says, “how about we take a look at this self-centered dude standing over there. Kinky as fuck. Serial orgasm denier. Don’t get fooled by his I’m-an-angel blond hair, this guy is into some kinky shit.”

Thor gives a little frown+smile, “what! I’m all vanilla, mate.”

Baldur gets close to Loki’s ear, catching his brother’s eyes over Loki’s shoulder, “don’t believe a word he says. He’s like those girls who act all innocent but end up fucking up your life big time. Zero vanilla in him, this guy is kinky as fuck.”

“Lies,” Thor says but ends up smiling super wide, popping his gum.

Kinky, this guy? Yeah, Loki can kinda see it now. He’s got the surfer look, you look at him and you think of flip-flops and beaches and smoking joints under the moonlight. But there’s something else in there but Loki can’t really focus that well right now cause Baldur is breathing down his neck smelling amazing and engulfing him in his body heat and Thor wipes off the bar and walks up to Loki, studying him from head to toe, a glass of vodka in his hand.

Baldur grips Loki’s bound wrists in one large hand, pressing himself against Loki from behind and the heels of Loki’s hands end up brushing against the front of Baldur’s pants—hard thighs and an impressive hard on. Loki gulps and wets his lips, lifting his eyes to meet Thor’s aroused gaze.

Thor sips on the vodka, “so. You’re into threesomes?”

Loki clears his throat, “yeah.”

Ok. So Loki’s not a short guy, but these two are fucking massive. They have to be around 6'5 just towering over him and with his wrists bound like that, he’s not gonna lie: he feels exposed and vulnerable and what is he even doing here, he doesn’t know these people and his mind very irrationally skips backwards in time to some news app he flipped through this morning, catching a glimpse of the astrology section and did it say anything like:  newsflash curious Scorpio, today you die?

Baldur bites on Loki’s earlobe and Thor reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind Loki’s other ear, a teasing smile, “one guy is just not enough for you, huh.”

“Needy,” Baldur whispers into his hair.

Loki gets the shivers. They’re leading this in the direction of I’m such an insatiable whore dirty talk thing and Loki’s game.

He cocks his head back a bit and locks eyes with Thor, “nothing beats having a cock in your mouth while someone puts your legs over their shoulders and fucks you nice and deep. Bonus points for thrusting synchronization.”

The last bit he says with a twinkle in his eyes cause his biggest fantasy ever, yep.

Thor’s lips part audibly and he’s got this look in his eye like _I like that_.

Thor gives Baldur a _hey now, that’s a good idea_ blink, “we can do that.”

“Yeah,” Baldur presses Loki’s palms over his erection, pressing and dragging, pressing and dragging, up and down, up and down, letting Loki get used to the width and length of it and shit he’s huge, “where do you want it baby. Your mouth or your ass.”

These two are the real thing.They’re not like the two surfer dudes from before (his one and only threesome experience till now) who were all _you mind if I put my dick inside you now please and thank you_ and gave him a ride home post the super boring fucking marathon.

These guys, it’s not the first time they’re doing this, he can tell. And they won’t go easy on him either. And he gets a flutter of fear/excitement inside him and his mouth goes dry.

“How ‘bout both,” he replies courageously and kinda freezes when he hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper taking the plunge.

Baldur maneuvers Loki’s hands into his now unbuttoned jeans, forcing Loki to unclench his fists and stroke his cock. Loki feels the fabric of Baldur’s briefs stretching over his knuckles. He feels the warmth there, feels Baldur’s pulse throbbing along the base of his cock, beating into the center of Loki’s palm.

Never letting go of Loki’s wrists, Baldur uses Loki’s hands to touch himself the way he likes to and Loki lets him, all the while keeping his eyes on Thor who eyes him carefully.

“Your mouth tells me one thing,” Thor says and his palm is on Loki’s sternum, moving up to stroke just at the base of his neck, “but your eyes, they’re telling me a different story.”

Baldur lets out a hum of agreement, pushing Loki’s hands deeper to get all of him in his palms.

Loki juts his chin, “is this your polite way of telling me that I’m a liar.”

Thor’s hand moves up his neck then his fingers stroke Loki’s lips.

“It’s the polite way of saying—” Thor says, dipping his fingers into the vodka glass then bringing them back up to Loki’s mouth, trying to slip his fore and middle fingers into Loki’s mouth slowly.

Loki hesitates before he parts his lips and lets the fingers in his mouth. The vodka stings his tongue and he gives a short gulp, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. It takes him a few seconds to realizes what Thor wants him to do.

Loki starts sucking on Thor’s fingers and Thor looks at him with this _I knew it_ look.

“—that what you’ve just told us. You’ve only seen in porn vids. Trying to play it all-knowing with us.”

Loki doesn’t say anything. Thor caught him lying and Loki feels his ears growing warm.  Thor sees that and smirks, working his fingers in Loki’s mouth and Loki twirls his tongue around them. They’re large and moving his tongue over the hard knuckles feels good. He sucks harder, just to show Thor he’s not inexperienced, that he knows what he’s doing and that he’s ready for them.

Loki’s hands feel wet and sticky now. Baldur’s pre-cum between his fingers, really warm.

“He can take it,” Baldur says and moves Loki’s thumb over the head of his cock, “you can take dick, right sweetheart? It’s all about learning the basics.”

Thor slips his fingers out of Loki’s mouth and smears the clear saliva all over Loki’s lips, tugs on his bottom lip with his thumb.

“I can take it,” Loki says.

Baldur lets out a breathy laugh directed at Thor, “see. Told you so.”

Tucking himself back in, Baldur moves to Loki’s left, his right hand holding on to the zip ties. Thor moves to Loki’s right, holding on to the zip ties as well and together they make their way up the stairs into the bedroom.

Loki goes on his back on the bed, lying on his bound wrists. With his lips parted and his head hanging off the edge of the bed he looks out the window as Thor tugs his jeans down his thighs and Baldur stands right next to his head, stroking himself, gaze fixed on Loki’s open mouth.

The moon shines bright and Loki smiles wide, closing his eyes.


	3. gloves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thor works as a graphic designer. One day he gets a curious box delivered to his cubicle. Includes sex in a public place, glove fetish. written as a tumblr prompt!

“Mr Odinson?”

Thor looks up. He’s been sketching on the tablet in his little grey cubicle for two hours straight now and it feels like his eyes are gonna change sockets any time now cause intense focusing from real up close.

A redheaded delivery guy slouches to his right with a black box in his hand, blue baseball cap on.

This doesn’t look like pizza. Not that Thor ordered one, but it kinda sounds good right now.

He pushes back from his desk, tossing his glasses onto a stack of papers, “for me?”

Blue cap passes him the box+slip of paper he needs to sign.

“Who’s it from.”

He checks, “err. A Mr. Laufeyson?”

Loki. For real?

Yep, says so on the paper. But what the hell, this is awkward. Since when does Loki send him stuff. Except nudes. He sends nudes and Thor loves ‘em. Maybe there’s nudes in the box, polaroid style. Now we’re talking.

Thor gives a scribble-like signature.

Blue cap collects the paper and pen, “you know what they say: good things come in small packages.”

It’s really small, the size of a pocketbook.

Thor frowns down at it. Holds it up to his ear, giving it a small shake.

“Could be anything really,” blue cap says, staring at the box with morbid curiosity, “a lottery ticket. A USB thingy containing top secret hush-fucking-hush info. A pinky finger.”

“A _what_ .”

“You heard me. It’s been done before. You piss someone off, you get a pinky finger in the mail, possibly your own. Sometimes people lose a finger and don’t even notice it until someone lets them know.”

Hm. Thor _did_ say he’d make Loki a smoothie the previous morning and didn’t. Is that enough to piss someone off that badly.

After blue cap leaves, Thor spreads out his fingers, just to make sure none are missing.

Ten fingers, both pinkies in place.

Phew.

With his arms crossed over his chest, Thor stares at the box that is catching the fluorescents between an orange pen holder and a tiny cactus standing all lippy by the table lamp.

He does have like 0 self control though so as soon as the _ok, weird?_ Thought passes, he draws himself up close to the desk and lifts off the lid.

Inside there’s a pair of black leather gloves, definitely his size (Thor’s hands are BIG), and a little note in Loki’s chicken scratch handwriting.

_I’ll be in the parking lot in 1 hour. Come fuck me. Yeah, I said fuck me, not_ **find** _me. Bring gloves with or I’m going home._

Thor lets out a short whistle, rubs his palms together.

He peeks over the thin wall of his cubicle to see if anyone’s watching, before he takes the gloves out of the box.

They’re brand new and have that spicy leather smell that feels all warm and strangely intimate and arousing. Look expensive too.

Thor slips them on. First the right, then the left.

Clenches his hands into fists inside them and some of his knuckles give soft pleasant _cracks!_

Earlier this winter:

 

Walking down the street on a freezing day, Loki turned his head to look at a man who passed by them. Thor looked too cause things didn’t usually catch Loki’s attention that easily so it had to be something good.

Ends of his dark royal-green scarf twisting in the wind, Loki stared after the older man and said: “now, how come _he_ wears these and _you_ never do.”

Stomping his feet in place, Thor went: “wears what.”

“Gloves,” Loki replied, wind moving his lashes and ends of his hair, his gaze focused on the man’s hands.

The man was carrying a pack of smokes in his right hand and a lighter. He had on a pair of dark grey gloves, black coat, white cupcake-frosting hair. The outline of the knuckles was visible, rounded and large.

“I got pockets,” Thor said and to prove his point, stuck his hands inside his coat’s pockets, “I don’t need gloves.”

Loki gave an exasperated eye roll, “do you _ever_ get what I’m trying to say to you.”

“Err. Sometimes. When you don’t go all elbow-in-the-ribs cryptic on me, trying to send me subliminal messages.”

Loki rolled his eyes so far back there was nothing but white showing, “ugh, nevermind. Forget it.”

Loki stalked off so fast Thor had to jog to catch up with him, coat twirling around his knees.

“Forget what,” he panted close to Loki’s ear, ducking a man opening his umbrella cause it was starting to rain.

Loki just held his head high and pretended not to know Thor for the rest of their way home.

Just last week:

 

Ok, so Loki hates action films with a passion cause he thinks they’re stupid. So he totally made Thor blink when he chose one with a kidnapping and guns and stuff for them to watch on their movie night.

He was all curled up under Thor’s left armpit, slaying the buttered popcorn and Pepsi, his eyes all wide and super focused and Thor was in his element just enjoying all the explosions and car chases and the rhythmic chewing movements of Loki against the side of his chest and the weight of Loki’s left leg sprawled across his lap.

When suddenly the motherfucking hitman walked into the frame holding a pistol with a silencer ready, and Loki’s body stiffened, every single muscle tensing up and he let out a small moan when they showed a close-up of the hitman’s gloved hand.

Loki stopped chewing and just stared, popcorn bud between his middle finger and thumb and Thor looked at him like _what’s wrong with you_ , “what.”

Loki didn’t reply.

A shot of some house in the suburbs, stuffy summer day.

Loki relaxed against him and popped the popcorn into his mouth, looking a little disappointed.

But then, just when Thor had already forgotten all about the weird moaning incident, Loki did it again when they showed a close up of the gloved hitman, keeping a guy from screaming by covering his mouth from behind.

“Crushing on the hitman?” Thor guessed, “really bald, though. Never thought baldies are your type.”

Loki turned his head to look at him.

If looks could kill.

Thor just didn’t get it.

Yeah so now Thor gets the hint. All it took was Loki actually going out to buy a pair of gloves for him, have them delivered to him, and stating in a note just in case Thor is dense today that those are not for winter cold, Those are for _fucking_.

Thor stuffs the gloves into the back pocket of his jeans before he leaves his cubicle for “lunch”. There’s no way he’s taking the elevator wearing those, people might think he’s taking a break from work to go hide a body or something.

Natasha spots him on his way out the door and goes: “going to get something good?”

Thor kinda sweats. To eat, she means, something good to _eat_. She has no idea you’re going to fuck your sassy boyfriend with a pair of leather gloves on in the parking lot.

“Oh yeah,” he says and does that sound naughty cause she gives him a _…okay?_ Look like why are you so excited about boring office lunch?

“It’s zucchini day,” he says as if that’s supposed to explain anything and she gets this look like you need to go out more often, this place is messing with your head man.

All throughout the elevator ride, he recounts Loki’s crazy kinks: candle wax play (chest and belly and inner thighs as fave spots), rolepalying (I’m the bad bad intruder coming through your window at night and hey you’re sleeping au-naturel isn’t that nice), walking on Thor’s chest wearing a kick-ass pair of pointy high heels. The leather gloves thing is kinda new. But thinking about it, it can be an older kink, it just took Thor time to figure out that Loki has it.

These kinks might seem odd at first but once he sees Loki riding the fucking orgasm train, he’s into it.

Also, fucking Loki in a public place where there’s the possibility  of someone catching them in the act, It’s a huge turn on and as he walks out of the elevator into the shadowy parking lot he pulls the gloves on and it gives him this unexpected power trip that leaves his heart pumping hard.

Spotting Loki isn’t hard. He’s sitting on the hood of his car, sunglasses on his hair, leaning back on his palms.

He spots Thor from afar and when he sees the gloves he gives his lips a good bite.

Thor motions with a tilt of his head to a dark corner where the security cams can’t reach, a delightful blind spot, perfect for noon hour fucking.

Loki slides off the hood, palms scraping against the paint giving this high-pitched squeaky sound that makes the hairs on Thor’s arms stand on end but in a good way cause it means Loki is following and they’re really doing this.

Thor steps into the shadows where it’s cool and quiet and Loki can’t see him.

At one point Loki actually stops in his tracks to peer into the darkness, looking for him, playing with the sunglasses on his hair cause pre sex nerves.

A car takes off in the distance and Thor watches Loki walk into the shadows, blinking everywhere, Thor’s name on his tongue.

Loki turns on his heels, facing the cars now, head turning from right to left.

Smells cool in there, like stone and water, but also spicy like gasoline and tire-tracks.

Thor sneaks up on him from behind.

He clasps one hand over Loki’s mouth, one arm around his chest and Loki gives a little jump, hands flying up to grip at Thor’s forearms cause unexpected!

“This what you wanted?” Thor says in his ear and pulls him backwards into the darkness.

Without spinning Loki around to face him, Thor pushes Loki up against a wall without letting go of his mouth.

Loki brings his palms up so it won’t be just his chest pushing up against the wall and gives a quick little nod.

He then puts his hand over Thor’s hand and brings it up a bit so it covers not only his mouth but his nose as well.

His eyes flutter closed when he takes all that dark leather smell in and his other hand trails down to touch himself.

Thor feels Loki nuzzling into the glove. His nose moves between Thor’s fore and middle finger, and his lips gently trail over the pads of Thor’s fingers, loving the way they feel even fleshier with the gloves on.

Thor moves Loki’s hand aside and slips his own hand under Loki’s loose tank top.

Even through the thick leather Thor can feel Loki’s warm breath as he pants heavily into Thor’s palm cause Thor spreads his fingers out on Loki’s flat stomach and the feeling of the cool leather on his skin is to die for. Cause he slides his hand up Loki’s chest, big hand coming up to close around Loki’s neck like a necklace, and give a tight squeeze.

Loki moans and Thor uses the hand over Loki’s mouth to crane Loki’s neck backwards, leaning his head on his shoulder so he can see his eyes.

He gives another press into Loki’s jugular causing Loki to open his eyes and stare up at the high ceiling, pupils blown out.

Seeing Loki like this gets Thor hard and he drags his hand down to pinch and tug on Loki’s nipples and Loki’s eyes flutter closed again.

Pushing Loki’s black skinny jeans down his thighs (a delightful absence of underwear Thor might add), Thor grabs Loki’s chin and sticks three fingers into Loki’s mouth. Loki lets out a muffled moan and opens his mouth wide, letting Thor twist them around for lubrication. His thick fingers move over Loki’s teeth and tongue, getting nice and clear saliva all over them, before Thor pulls his fingers out and drags them between Loki’s buttocks.

Loki squirms against him and Thor probes his hole with his middle finger, other hand going back to clamping tight over Loki’s mouth and nose.

Thor slowly starts pushing it in.

Loki tenses up under and around him, and when Thor’s finger is in to the fucking knuckle, Loki clenches around him tight and the pressure on his finger coupled with the heat of it makes Thor wanna bury himself inside Loki and fast.

He starts moving his finger inside him and Loki presses his forehead against the wall, ends of his hair tickling Thor’s wrist.

Sweat trickles down Loki’s spine, gathering inside his lovely back dimples, and, pressing his mouth against the back of Loki’s neck, Thor slides another finger in and Loki lets out a muffled cry.

Thor uncovers Loki’s nose so it’ll be easier for him to breathe and works him, twisting his fingers inside him, stroking and massaging for a while.

Thor pulls his fingers out and unbuckles his belt. The tiny metallic clinks echo all around and he feels Loki’s body tensing up in anticipation.

Thor rubs himself for a bit and has to admit the feel of the leather on sensitive skin is amazing.

When he guides his cock into Loki after a little bit of preparation, his gloved knuckles brush up against Loki’s ass cheeks and the coolness of the leather against his heated skin makes him moan and hold on to Thor’s wrist, the same hand that is still clamped tight over his mouth.

“Fuck,” Loki breathes as Thor’s cock stretches him.

“What did you say in your note about going home,” Thor teases and Loki almost cries when Thor wraps his gloved hand around Loki’s cock.

Thor doesn’t start off thrusting slow. He goes deep from that first thrust, heavy and hot against Loki’s back.

Loki scratches the paint off the wall, it gathers under his short fingernails.

When he feels like he’s able to, he starts meeting Thor’s thrusts and cries out into Thor’s hand when Thor starts jerking him off the same rhythm he uses to push into him.

Thor fucks him hard and deep, watching the sunglasses moving on Loki’s hair with each thrust, watching him squeezing his eyes shut as Thor hits the right spot over and over again.

“Don’t stop,” he hears Loki saying.

Pressing his lips to his ear, Thor says: “wasn’t planning to, sweetheart.”

When Loki comes, Thor clamps his hand over Loki’s mouth tighter to muffle that glorious broken scream, tugging Loki’s head back so the sides of their faces touch and Loki’s nostrils flare and his eyes are just lost, tears sticking to his lower lashes cause it was just that good.

When Thor walks Loki back to the car, Loki’s hair sticks to his temples and his cheeks and neck are red. He puts his sunglasses on and shakes out his set of keys as if nothing happened but his lips give him away cause he always does that post a really good fuck, always lets you know he had a really good time with that lip purse thing without even meaning to, it’s his body’s way of giving him away.

Loki opens the car door and just before he steps inside, tosses the gloves back to Thor who catches them.

“You know, sometimes people leave their apartment’s door open,” he says, “all kinds of mean people can walk in on you when you’re sleeping and just take advantage. Right?”

He gives Thor a wink and flops down behind the wheel, slamming the door shut behind him.

Thor lifts the gloves up for a wave.

Looks like roleplaying night is on the menu.

Thor returns the wink and Loki honks to him when he drives by.


	4. play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written for this prompt by ktspree13: Tony's roped Thor into playing a video game at the Avengers complex. Loki's standing there like, it's fuck o'clock. Tick, tock, Thor. Tony doesn't know what to do, but when Loki starts straddling Thor's lap (upon Thor's own suggestion) Tony's pretty sure he's going to win this game.

“Hey there, thunder thighs. I think someone’s looking for ‘ya.”

So Tony and Thor are on the gigantic leather couch playing Apocalypse: Resurrection. This multiplayer game where the more zombies you slay the more kickass you are and Thor’s in the mood for some _I can put a bullet through your brains with my eyes shut you stinky rottin’ motherfuckers_ and it’s good Tony spoke up cause Thor had his head in the game and didn’t notice Loki standing there in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, looking murderous (and gorgeous!) cause hey look at that it’s past 1 am and by this time on any other night Thor would be ramming into him holding Loki’s wrists behind his back with one hand and pushing his face into the pillows with the other holding on to the back of his neck or! Another of Thor’s favorites: Thor all sprawled out on the bed on his back, wearing just his black silk robe thing not tied around his waist at all but just open sliding to the sides exposing pecs and nipples and bellybutton and a glorious erection, and Loki worshipping him biting his inner thighs and twirling his tongue around him while curling his fingers in the fluttering fabric of Thor’s robe.

Loki loves giving and he loves receiving but it looks like tonight none of those are gonna happen cause Thor thinks he’s kicking ass in Raccoon City.

Thor lets out this humming sound like _mmm-hmmmm_ without taking his eyes off the screen and sticks his tongue out in concentration as he taps the red button to zoom in with his rifle’s scope on an ugly mofo  who is wobbling towards his player, butcher knife in hand.

Then he gives a small frown and says: “did you just call me thunder thighs.”

“He did,” Loki drawls, pressing his temple against the doorframe.

“I did,” Tony says and lets out a _shit you’re good!_ whistle when Thor takes the mofo down with one clean—

“HEADSHOT!” Thor screams, almost unplugging the controller when he throws his arm up like _fuck yeah!_

“You’re killing me, man,” Tony says and pops some crisps into his mouth cause nerves.

Thor leans sideways and screams right into Tony’s ear and lightning flashes outside even though the sky is 100% clear.

Thor’s leading by about 120 points—his side of the screen has blood exploding all over it every few seconds with this creepy 19th century kind of rain washing it off fast while this extra freaky farm house lingers in the background full of zombie uncles and zombie neighbors getting ready to attack.

“Full of potential those thighs,” Loki muses from the doorway, pressing a finger to his lip in thought, “when you put your face between them. And they squeeze around your head, bringing you face to face with—”

“Err,” Tony deadpans, “there’s another person in the room. With functioning ears. Who happens to understand English, who now has an image of Thor’s, uh—lightning rod? In his mind. An unwanted image. So. Can you not.”

Loki shrugs, “you brought it up.”

“True,” Thor agrees, giving a sly smirk, “you were thinking about my thighs.”

Tony blinks hard at the screen, “was not, big guy.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Loki says, hint dropping like fuck.

Thor pops his gum post a second killer headshot, “come ride ‘em then.”

Loki gives him a look like _really?_ And Thor just leans back into the cushioned backrest, spreading his legs wide.

Tony lifts up a finger cause wait a minute and both he and Loki go at the same time: _“I’m sure he didn’t mean that!” “I’m pretty sure you didn’t just mean what you said, brother?”_ and Thor’s mouth falls open in concentration, his eyes like miles away and Loki sits himself down on Thor’s right thigh, squeezing his long slender legs around Thor’s big strong thigh.

“Oh boy,” Tony says, “hey Lokes. I think you kinda missed the couch there.”

Loki gives him a look like _what no I didn’t?_ and twists his feet around Thor’s ankle, sticking his elbow into Thor’s shoulder. Chin in hand, Loki leans close to Thor and sticks his tongue into Thor’s ear, this quick wet jab.

Tony goes: “Am I in a Basic Instinct sequel right now or something.”

“That depends,” Thor murmurs, “you wearing underwear right now?”

Tony drops the controller into his lap like wtf.

Loki sticks his nose into Thor’s ear, “ _I’m_ not.”

Controller back in his hand, Tony gives a _what is life even_ hand gesture.

Loki gives Thor’s ear a nice bath but Thor stops reacting to Loki’s tongue with his soft squints and those hushed humming noises of his, head totally in the game again and does Loki wanna slay all those stupid zombies right now or what.

Loki decides to go for a little reminder.

“Yep,” he says, playing with the ends of Thor’s hair, “definitely no underwear on _this trickster_.”

Thor slays 3 zombies, totally oblivious.

Tony closes his eyes for a sec like _if you can’t beat 'em, join 'em_.

“He’s not wearing any underwear,” Tony says all loud so Thor would hear.

Tapping the blue and red buttons super fast with both thumbs, Thor goes: “huh, what. Who needs cab fare.”

“I said underwear, not cab fare,” Tony says.

“Whose underwear.”

“Mine,” Loki says, exasperated.

Thor gives this amused grin, “what, the green ones with the gold helmet print.”

Loki facepalms.

Inching close to the edge of the sofa so he can see the zombies dropping dead better, Tony says: “I think your brother is trying to seduce you, Monsieur Thunder.”

And Loki slides off of Thor’s thigh and kneels between his legs, yanking Thor’s zipper down like a pro.

“Headshot!” Thor roars again cause another zombie bit the dust and Loki blinks up at him.

“How about a cumshot,” Loki says before he takes Thor into his mouth at once and Thor instantly goes super hard on Loki’s tongue.

“Whoa there!” Tony covers his eyes fast.

Thor lets out this surprised/aroused cry and closes his thighs around Loki’s frame. Needless to say he almost drops the controller.

Loki starts sucking him off, hugging Thor’s thighs, digging his fingers into the back of Thor’s thighs, grabbing fistfuls of warm, clean fabric.

Thor can’t help it. He moves the controller to his left hand and grabs the back of Loki’s head with his right, making Loki take him in even deeper.

The white cord gets all tangled up in Loki’s hair and outside thunder is rolling.

“Loki, fuck.”

Thor tries to keep his hips still. He thinks that by not thrusting into Loki’s mouth he can keep his mind in the game. His face is this painting of the sweetest torture and Tony is gaining on him playing with a hand over his eyes peeking through his fingers, cause someone blows you it takes away from your zombie blasting abilities and that’s a fact.

“You’re jeopardizing the mission,” Thor pants all hoarse trying to blink the fog of approaching orgasm out of his eyes.

And Loki gives him this look like _you had a mission too. To fuck me till I can’t remember my own name. And you didn’t. So._

“You know,” Tony muses to himself, “that brandy. I had like two shots today. I think I need another.”

Loki rakes his fingernails from the top of Thor’s thighs down to his knees, the fabric catching in them and letting out these sweet crackling sounds.

One of the zombies tosses an axe at Thor’s player which he doesn’t dodge on time and his health bar goes down 50% and Thor points at the screen–

“You fucking— _ah_!”

Thor bites down on his knuckles, controller cord dangling over his wrist cause Loki pulled back and is now sucking on the head and Thor’s body gets all taut like a violin string.

Tony hums an _okaaaaay_  and Thor throws himself back into the cushions, hips arching off the couch and when he comes hard into Loki’s mouth his eyes are squeezed shut and his hands are covering his face and he can’t even see that his player is now RIP and truthfully he doesn’t even fucking care.

Loki pulls back, licking his lips.

“Cumshot,” he whispers and grins.

Thor rakes his fingers through his hair and Tony looks at them, controller all limp in his hand.

“I won,” Tony says, “so why does it feel like I lost, guys?”


	5. somewhere the survivor

When Thor wakes up one morning he’s not alone.

There’s this very clear, very distinct feeling that his isn’t the only beating heart inside the small apartment with its French windows and blue and white walls.

With his knees still tucked under his chin, same position he fell asleep in grading papers, sitting up with his temple cradled against the wall, he gives a somewhat guarded look around, tongue darting out to lick at the dry corners of his mouth.

It’s a studio apartment so he can see all the way to the front door from where he’s sitting on the bed. Big lacquered closet, its doors wide open, white shirts and sweaters hanging inside it like ribs around the heart. His bicycle with its mustard-colored seat. A navy blue couch with magazines strewn all over it. The drafty kitchenette. No one is there but him and he rests his chin on his knees and listens, just in case.

His attention shifts to his tummy. It feels full. A dull ache, not disturbing, but strangely comfortable, spreads out from just below his bellybutton to his right thigh and to his left, and it feels like lowering yourself into a bath filled with warm, soapy water.

Thor stretches one leg out. Pressing his cheekbone and temple against the wall, he lays one palm over his belly.

It’s not long before he tucks both forearms between his thighs and curls in on himself, pressing his forehead into his knees, eyes closed with a tiny frown.

The apartment is soft blue with the humming morning light. A clock ticks somewhere.

Thor thinks he’s close to getting his period. Just a couple days more. He makes a mental note to get some tampons and Advil when he’s done with teaching for the day.

Only his eyes, glasses, and his tussled hair visible over his drawn-up knees, Thor gives his apartment another look. His gaze this time is open and calm and he wraps his arms around his midsection, not wanting to lose that velvety comforting heat that keeps on spreading inside him.

*

The AC is on full blast inside the classroom, but Thor has to stop writing stuff down on the board every few minutes to fan himself with some of Anne Sexton’s poems he’s got in his hand, and each _crackle-whoosh!_ they give blows his shirt’s collar back, blows his honey-colored hair back from his temples but it still feels like his cheeks are on fire and his cupid’s bow feels wet and sticky.

He keeps having to hold one hand up in front of the vent to make sure the AC is still running.

He gets a bunch of weird looks from the students when he chugs down a big bottle of water and twists the cap off another.

The students copy Sexton quotes and analysis off the board and one girl puts her pen down to put a jacket on and zip it all the way up.

Thor turns the AC off and opens one of the windows wide instead.

Wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

On the board he’d quoted:

Will I give you my eyes or his?   
Will you be the David or the Susan?   
(Those two names I picked and listened for.)   
Can you be the man your fathers are—   
the leg muscles from Michelangelo,   
hands from Yugoslavia   
somewhere the peasant, Slavic and determined,   
somewhere the survivor bulging with life— 

Hands braced on the windowsill, Thor pokes his head out the window.

A perfectly straight row of sycamore trees bend their necks in the wind, green leaves and some red ones rattling like fish scales. Thor gets a ghostly breeze across his face whenever their crowns tilt to the left. When they tilt to the right he feels the pores on his cheeks filling up with salty warm sweat.

“Hey, teach. You cool?”

Thor presses a palm to his forehead and closes his eyes.

*

Thor sits there at Buck’s Burgers, back turned to the window, stuffing his face with fries and chunky vanilla n’ cookies ice cream.

There’s salt all over the scratched plastic tray and his fries are practically white with it cause he dumped two pinky-sized packets of salt all over them.

The pink straw sticking out of his large coke is still spinning cause he just took a giant sip and he’s grabbing four fries at a time before he even gets a chance to swallow his current mouthful. He dunks the fries into the ice cream cup and pigs out on them just like that—vanilla on his knuckles, cookie dust on his lips, corners of his mouth sticky and wet and sugary. The sound of his chewing and gulping and slurping drowns out the ongoing sound of people talking, spoons clinking and paper bags crackling when someone unwraps a tasty burger.

Thor licks the ice cream off his thumb, pinky, thumb again, bouncing his leg up and down super fast under the table. He takes another mouthful of fries and ‘cream and pushes the glasses up the bridge of his nose using his wrist cause clean, just looking around. An old man enjoys a _happy burger_ in a seat by the door. A woman and her kid try to decide if they want hot sauce on their burger. A poster on the wall by the counter: a smiling burger bun with its friends the ecstatic cheese slice and the friendly ketchup bottle, all having extremely long lashes for some reason and really meaty lips.

Thor throws his entire upper body forward and latches on to the straw, sucking on tiny bits of shattered ice and silky coke. His pulse races behind his sternum—all that salt and sugar.

When he’s done he orders more fries and ice cream. This serving he eats with his elbow on the table and his chin on his knuckles, eyes unfocused, his mind miles away.

*

At night, he can’t fall asleep.

This raw, carnal need, keeps him awake and alert.

In the cool, dark, blue shadows falling over his bedroom like breezy drapes, he puts a pillow under his hips, lets his head sink deep into the mattress, and, spreading his legs wide, starts touching himself.

He takes off his glasses, presses them with his palm into the bedside table, and then covers his face with his hand.

It’s a bright night, full of stars and huge chunks of moonlight, and he can’t help but feel a little bit exposed, vulnerable, when he pushes his shirt all the way up to his chin and kneads the warm flesh of his chest. It feels sore. His nipples feel bruised, like they’ve been pinched relentlessly for hours, tugged on and twisted for someone’s viewing pleasure. The flesh feels swollen, but gathering it into his hand, digging his fingers into it deep, the pain makes him twist his hips like his body is trying to get away from it, but it also coils around his spine like lightning twirling around bone and tingles all nice and warm in his belly.

Digging his heels into the mattress, he arches his hips up off the bed, burying the right side of his face in the pillow, frowning with delight as the fingers of his right hand touch and stroke and prod between the warm folds, knuckles poking through his grey sweatpants.

He clenches his thighs, squeezing them tight together, trapping his hand between them. He strokes his clit, rubbing and pulling, pushing and twisting, until it feels like his entire body is one giant heart that’s pulsating wetly in the darkness.

He comes three times over the course of thirty minutes with soft small cries, eyes clenched shut.

Wrist sore and cheeks flushed, he lays there, the moonlight cooling on his skin, catching in the sheen on his face and neck and chest and arms.

Thor blinks up at the ceiling with tears in his eyes, forearm thrown over his forehead.

*

“Thor, you alright?”

Loki’s voice comes through the stall’s door, silent and concerned. Loki teaches American History at their school. They have coffee together on their lunch breaks. Sometimes Loki comes over and stays the night. He leaves Thor’s pillows smelling like rosemary.

Even more softly: “Thor.”

Thor gathers enough saliva to swallow past the painful dryness in his throat.

He’s sitting on the floor inside one of the bathroom stalls and his heart feels like it’s skipping across the world map, everywhere at once.

Two bold pink lines on the scratchy screen of his store-bought pregnancy test.

Loki raps gently on the light green door.

Thor looks up.

He can’t see Loki but he does: short black hair, white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, lingering patience in his eyes. Rosemary and a hand holding Thor’s through the night.

Thor raises his hand.

His fingers linger over the door’s lock.


	6. sadness in gold

Loki is on his knees, trying to buckle Thor’s belt.

It’s 1 Am and it’s cold and the grass he’s kneeling in is damp and all around them in this half-circle it’s one tree there then a smear of darkness, tree, darkness, tree, darkness, like a mouth that lost some of its teeth and it’s just bones and shadows now.

See, Thor used the belt as a tourniquet. Shot up twice in six hours. Popped that needle into a vein real easy like poking a hole in a bag of milk with a fork. Caught his lip between his teeth as he slowly squeezed the piston. His veins gobbled the heroin up like a tree drinking its own sap. Walked out of the get-together with his arm around Loki’s shoulders and his belt buckle undone, sleeves of his leather jacket covering up the needle marks.

Thor’s hands are on Loki’s shoulders, thumbs pressing into his clavicles, fingers digging into his shoulder blades, ten points of dull throbbing pain in Loki’s flesh. He’s leaning against him, standing all bent over him and he smells like home, like Loki’s sheets and Frigga’s apple tree, Odin’s lemon-scented cigarettes.

“Where’s the house.”

Loki cranes his neck back to look at him.

The stars are hanging over Thor’s head. They look like they might fall at any second, like it’s just sticky tape keeping them up there. One is twinkling just next to Thor’s left ear.

“It’s right there,” Loki says like he’s talking to a lost child and motions with his head to Thor’s friend’s house with all its dim lights and club music, this grey rectangle in the middle of a dark field, “we just left, remember? I’m taking you home.”

“N—”

 _No_ is the word Thor was looking for, but he gives a soft blink, moving his eyes around, searching for something among the trees.

A tiny frown, a little hesitant and a little touched, a little melancholy, “the one. The. The one with the—”

Rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand, he pushes through the stagnant haze in his head, “—wind chimes.”

He blinks down at the ground and gives a short nod, like _got that right_ , “the one with the wind chimes.”

Now, Thor’s only holding on to one of Loki’s shoulders, carrying some of his weight on his own, and Loki grabs the ends of his brother’s jacket, feeling for the zipper cause it’s fucking freezing out there, “wind chimes, what wind chimes?”

Thor gives a small smile—a pale twitch of the corner of his mouth, a flash of childish front teeth, “with the moon. And the sun.”

Loki pauses, silver zipper cradled in his palm, jacket zipped up all the way to Thor’s sternum.

He raises his brows and his voice goes up in surprise, “grandma’s house?”

“We always took the trail to the left,” Thor answers but he’s looking up at the sky instead, “three minute drive. Birch trees.”

Their grandma died six years ago. They visited the house only once since, before Odin sold it, just to put it to memory, to say goodbye. Loki remembers Thor standing on out on the porch, his lips pursed to keep the tears in, touching the wind chimes. Thor and their gran had a special connection. It was never like that between her and Loki.

As soon as Loki is done zipping Thor’s jacket up and he’s up on his feet again, Thor tugs the zipper all the way down like he’s really hot. The jacket flies open and he rubs a palm over his forehead, tugs on the front of his shirt. He feels like he’s on fire while the tips of Loki’s ears are freezing cold.

“Birch trees,” Loki echoes quietly and starts patting down Thor’s pockets, “keys?”

“Birch kinda sounds like torch,” Thor says, slinging his arm around Loki’s shoulders again, “like church, too. Church trees. They grow bells instead of fruit.”

Reaching around Thor’s waist, Loki finds the car keys inside the right coat pocket.

“Choir birds,” Loki says and they have a laugh on the way over to the car.

*

Thor using, it wasn’t something Loki was supposed to find out about. But one day, Thor went to this party at Jarvis’ place—he didn’t even sneak out, he told their mom he was going (he didn’t mention that Jarvis told him there’d be some _special_ things there) and she said okay but be back by midnight. Loki didn’t want to go with and, truth was, no one even invited him. Thor’s friends were never his friends too. So he read alone in his room for two hours before Frigga poked her head in and asked him to call Thor and tell him to pick up some cereal on his way back cause they ran out and Loki tried calling but Thor wouldn’t pick up so cause the party was just a few blocks away Frigga sent him over there to tell him in person

Loki found Thor with a needle sticking out of the crook of his right elbow (cause left-handed), thumb on the piston, full head of blonde hair thrown back against the leather couch headrest, eyes wide open, euphoria on his lashes.

Loki just stared, phone in his hand still, cause he thought about pleasure suddenly, how it always felt like pleasure is something they could only experience together and how it never occurred to him that outside their little world of stolen kisses and bites of the forbidden fruit, Thor is his own person, not an extension of Loki, but a real, living human being with his own life, his own dreams, his own secret pleasures only he knows about.

There were only a few feet standing between them but to Loki it suddenly felt like they were worlds apart and the unexpected stinging pain of separation spread all throughout his body at once like he had just lost a limb and every nerve in his body was reacting to the violence of the act of amputation.

Thor never offered him a hit. Loki spent a lot of time thinking of it was because he loved him and didn’t want to get sucked into this twisted reality, or if it was because he was selfish and wanted to keep all this honey-colored dream to himself.

*

“Why’d you start using?” Loki asked Thor this one time.

They were lying on the carpet in Thor’s room on a Sunday afternoon, Thor on his back, Loki on his side with his knees pressed into Thor’s ribs.

It was old school posters of Tony Hawk and newspaper clippings about Metallica and Pantera, and printouts of every beach in the US, all around them on the walls. Thor’s running shoes in the corner, the stack of books their aunt got for him that he’d never read cause boring, just lying there on the floor, his pack of Marlboros wedged between their bodies.

Thor just kinda shrugged and Loki thought what a stupid thing to ask, it’s like asking him why he loves surfing so much, why he hates lettuce, why he starts smiling when he hears the opening notes to Light It Up (Major Lazer). It’s all just a part of who Thor is, the way he was born, and asking him to explain is pointless because you don’t know what makes you _you_ and why, you just exist and live it out, figuring it out is the hard part and most people fail.

Loki propped his head on his forearm, blinked up at Thor.

“I wasn’t enough for you?” he asked, keeping his lips parted, daring Thor to tell him the truth, “you wanted something more?”

Thor sat up slowly and ran his hands through his hair. Braced his hands on the floor and let his head drop. His shoulder blades shone in the golden afternoon light, his bent neck in shadows.

*

They’re making their way down this path that’s twisting under this never ending canopy of black leaves.

Thor’s walking on his own, a breathing shadow to Loki’s right. He’s smoking and it’s the scuffling of his boots and the small spots of moonlight skittering across his face landing once on a bright blue iris with specks of cinnamon around it, once on his left earlobe where you can still see the scar from when he tried to pierce it himself aged 13, once on his thumb as he flicks the ashes away—pale cuticle that’s going a little purple around the edges.

*

At some point Loki got tired of feeling like he was missing out. It probably wasn’t just that. Maybe he wanted to show Thor that just like him he can derive pleasure from things on his own, that he too is his own person and not merely an extension of Thor, a living human being with his own life, his own dreams, his own secret pleasures.

Tagging along, Loki joined Thor at a party, but instead of just sitting around drinking and listening to music, he snuck up into a room with one of Thor’s buddies and let him fill up his veins with liquid gold and weightlessness.

It was a sterile needle and syringe–Loki saw the dude take it out of the pack. That’s one of the few things he remembers. Among others: the song Video Games playing, the feeling like his arm is about to explode and like his heart migrated into it cause he felt his pulse throbbing there so hard, the feeling like you’re spinning really fast and really high off the ground, the warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach, the eyelids growing so heavy all of a sudden. And then:  a chair being flipped over, big hands grasping his shoulders shaking him shaking him shaking him, Thor pressing Loki’s forehead against his own then into his chest, cradling the back of his head. And sleeping. Sleeping this dreamless sleep in Thor’s arms inside one of the spare bedrooms.

 _Feeling sick?_ Odin would say, _sleep it off!_

The one thing Loki failed to realize was that each person has their own pleasures. This was Thor’s pleasure, Thor’s own sickness, not Loki’s. And Loki thought that Thor interpreted the whole incident as Loki trying to get some attention, or maybe just to get even—if you’re ditching me for this well I can do it too, let’s see how much I can hurt with this. But still, it somehow brought them closer together. Loki never used again, but whenever Thor would go to a party Loki would come too. It wasn’t just the new dread in his heart of losing Thor to this, it also felt like the bond between them grew stronger, like a thread of gold ran from one’s veins into the other’s sewing the two heart together like fabric and button.

Loki never told mom and dad. He watched Thor wrap the belt around his arm over and over again, look for veins, throw his head back on a tight lip bite, and never said a word.

*

Thor sits in the back as Loki drives.

With his eyes closed, face turned to the side, chin on shoulder, Thor scratches his arms through the sleeves. The tiny holes the needle left behind, they hurt. The pain turns to itchiness, celestial calm to uncomfortable agitation.

At times, Thor falls asleep. Loki knows when it happens cause the sound of Thor’s short fingernails scraping against the leather stops for a bit.

Loki peers at Thor in the rear view mirror, catching his head drooping, his lips parting, the large shoulders going slack. His eyes move under his lids like a trapped butterfly, mouth closing and opening, talking soundlessly in his grey sleep, haunted by all the things he’ll never admit to, all the things he can’t allow himself to say.  

The darkness sticks to Thor’s cheeks and forehead, left ear and chin—only his lashes and his upper lip protruding wheat-gold and sand-dunes-in-the-sunset pink.

*

Being given a bag full of stuff Odin got from the pharmacy, both Thor and Loki worked on stuffing all its contents inside the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.

It was the beginning of June and Thor wore a dark grey tank top and as he was taking bottles of pills out of the bag giving ‘em a spin and a label-read before putting them on the shelf, Loki watched his forearms, eyes drawn again and again to those tiny flesh-colored needle marks. They were everywhere. You could spot them easily if you looked close enough, and he didn’t even try to hide them just cause no one thought to look for them cause it was something their mom and dad could never imagine Thor doing, why would he? He had everything: good looks, friends, everyone adored him in school, he didn’t have to worry about money cause their parents were well-off. Why would he throw it all away?

The bathroom walls were pale pink and along with the dark fabric of Thor’s shirt, the sleepy shades of gold in his hair, paired with the soft crinkling of the shopping bag, the tumbling sound of the colorful pills inside the bottles, they all helped weave this spell of calmness and forever over Loki, like there was nothing wrong with Thor, like everything is exactly as it was before he started using, like Thor would be there by his side always:

_Smiling down all fond at him_

_Pinching his elbow_

_Smoothing a palm down the back of his neck_

_Braiding Loki’s hair when it’s really warm out_

_Popping into his room just to toss a candy bar his way cause yummy_

_Remind him to get his umbrella when it rains just when they need to go to school_

_Squish Loki into his side when they’re lying in bed and bury his nose in Loki’s hair_

_Have his back when Odin puts Loki down for one reason or the other_

_Sing really out of tune just to piss him off_

_Help him put up a poster cause it’s hard for Loki to reach_

_Yawn whenever Loki would start going on about a book that’s all history and has no action or spies or hitmen in it_

_Moan for six hours straight cause his socks are missing_

_Smile and light up the whole room just by doing so_

_Press a trail of kisses behind Loki’s ear_

_Hold out his hands in just the right way when the moon is out and they’re sitting on the porch so it looks like he’s got all the stars in his palms._

“I get sad sometimes.”

Thor’s voice banished the stringy tendrils of the feel-good spell and it took Loki a while to realize that he’s replying to that question Loki posed a while ago—why did you start using?

Thor moved back one of their mom’s perfume bottles to make room for her multivitamin, puts it on the little shelf, label visible, and reached inside the bag for the next one.

Odin’s sleeping pills.

At those he stopped and stared for a while and Loki’s heart beat hushed and scared in his chest.

*

When Thor starts seizing, Loki almost doesn’t notice it. It’s the repetitive sound of leather letting out velvety whispers and nothing more, no sigh, no moan, no strangled cry of throat muscles tightening painfully. Just the hushed sound of movement inside the leather jacket and at first Loki thinks it’s just Thor scratching his arms again, tugging on the sleeves in his sleep.

But when he looks in the rear view mirror he sees Thor’s head giving these small rhythmic jerks like he’s shaking it no and he’s sliding down in the seat with only the seatbelt holding him up.

With the car parked on the side of the deserted road, headlights slitting through the darkness, Loki unbuckles Thor’s seatbelt and tries to maneuver his large heavy body around so he can lay him across the seats. Loki’s hands are cold and shaking.

Not knowing what to do, Loki climbs into the backseat with him and holds him through it, face pressed into the back of Thor’s neck, staining the warm skin there with tears. He hugs his big brother, pressing him into his chest, eyes closed tight, terrified. He kisses Thor’s temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. He asks him to stay. He asks the sadness not to take him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, thor survives. Just putting this out there. Someone stops by and drives them to the hospital. Parents finds out. He gets the help he needs. Loki helps him through the sad days. Sadness did not win.


	7. three

That morning, financial advisor Thor saw the founders of the Taneleer/Gast company walk into the company building.

Flawless appearance for both: black suit and dark straight-framed sunglasses on Taneleer.

Light cream-colored suit with a striped tie on Gast. Looked like they’d just walked out of a photoshoot for a _I made it big I’m a fucking billionaire_ financial magazine article.

Taneleer fixed his suit jacket’s collar and Gast made a phone call as their chauffer shut the car doors behind them after they climbed out.

12 hours later, they’re looking quite different.

See, Thor walks in on them fucking his baby brother on the 32nd floor in the company building. Doing something like that can make ya look a little disheveled.

Now, there’s quite the picture: they have Loki bent over the desk and all Thor can see of him is Loki’s shy secretary updo with the hairpins catching the fluorescent lights+ one corner of his thick-framed glasses. He’s barely visible cause they’re all over him: Taneleer is pounding into him from behind while Gast crowds him from the front, filling Loki’s mouth with his cock and thrusting lazily.

A cigarette burns in the silver ashtray. Taneleer reaches for it from time to time and puffs hard on it with his silk tie bouncing all over the place with the rhythmic movement of his rough thrusts. Gast has his reading glasses on his hair, one hand casually tucked into his trousers pocket. They’re talking over Loki’s head, their voices low and formal, something money related. Gast chews on some gum—the room is swimming in its sweet peachy scent.

Some lights are still on in the surrounding buildings despite the super late hour. With the tinted windows, the night skies look almost extraterrestrial-purple.

Thor stands there with his hand around the knob, heart in his throat.

A sheet of paper slides off the stack of papers Thor’s got in his hand. It makes a great flapping noise as it flutters to the floor.

Taneleer turns his head to look, sucking on the end of the cigarette, squinting his right eye. He pinches the cigarette between forefinger and thumb. His cheeks go hollow as the burning end sizzles and hisses.

Thor doesn’t bend over to pick the paper up. He’s not sure if he’s forgotten about it or if he simply doesn’t care right now. All he thinks about is that _he_ was the one who got Loki this job here—something easy for Loki to do cause he’s terrible at jobs that require physical strength. And now his bosses are screwing him, like it’s no big fucking deal.

Taneleer looks Thor over. Lets the smoke out slowly on a raspy exhale.

“Wanna join in,” he asks, “an extra mouth wouldn’t hurt.”

That draws Gast’s attention. He looks up at Thor and takes off his reading glasses. Tosses them onto his desk.

“Hey there, my favorite figure-man,” he says, “naughty, naughty though. How long have you been standing there, you handsome blonde peeping tom.”

Gast looks down suddenly, letting out a soft _oh!_

Apparently, the shock of Gast talking about Thor, had Loki dropping Gast’s cock out of his mouth and trying to twist around so he can see if it’s really Thor there, catching him in the act.

“Thor!”

Thor catches his little brother’s faint voice. The blazing blush spreads across Loki’s face like a drop of ink on a soft tissue paper.

Taneleer flicks the ashes away. Still holding the smoking cigarette between forefinger and middle finger, he shoves Loki’s head back down.

Gast gives Loki’s head a little pat, “aw, nothing to be ashamed of—” looking up and pointing at Thor, “the both of you. You, you lovely silent observer, for wanting to stay and watch the workings of creation and the divinity of the human desire, seeing your brother as you’ve never seen him before. And you—” he smiles down at Loki, “you sweet, sweet boy, for coming on to my partner and myself and seducing our hearts with those wanton eyes of yours. Nothing to be ashamed of, indeed.”

Loki pulls back, giving his lips a quick swipe of his tongue, and it darts, shiny and pink between the stretchy tendrils of Gast’s per cum. He twists in Taneleer’s arms, wanting to flee but hide his face in shame in Taneleer’s chest at the same time.

The tails of Taneleer’s white dress shirt flicker over the small of his back as he steps in place, trying to turn both Loki and himself around. He sticks the cigarette in his mouth and locking his arm around Loki’s chest from behind, spins them both around.

Gast presses his hands into the small of his back as he walks round his desk, having not tucked himself back into his expensive trousers.  Strutting with his head tilted back on a teasing smile, Gast comes to stand to Taneleer’s right with his legs wide apart and his semi-erect cock partly covered by his untucked shirt.

“Ah,” he says, looking Loki over—

Taneleer wraps his left hand around Loki’s throat from behind. He strokes it twice, pinching the throbbing jugular. Then he yanks Loki’s head back, pressing it into his right shoulder as he slowly pulls out of him. Loki’s lips twitch around a tiny _ah!_

“Look at this,” Gast says, then his eyes leap back to Thor, “look at all this delightful red on the boy’s cheeks. I’d say someone is a little shy, hmm? A little late night timidity.”

Taneleer puffs on the cigarette behind Loki, his loose belt resting just below his buttocks, fastened to his black trousers. Giant shoulders, strong thick thighs, with all his hair slicked back and his prominent brow bone, he looks nothing short of ominous.

The smoke spirals grey out of Taneleer’s mouth when he blows it towards Loki and Loki takes it deep into his lungs, as intended, feeling Taneleer’s erection pressing into the small of his back and squirming against him.

Gast gives his glasses a little shove. They skid across the desk and stop just before they’re about to go over the edge.

“The same ol’ same ol’ case of—” Gast covers his mouth on a gasp like _ooh_! “ _my brother walking in on me having sex. Oh, whatever shall I do. I am mortified to my very core!_ Combined with _oh dear, it actually feels kind of nice being watched like this. How about you stick around for a bit, see what I can do. I’m quite different to the brother you used to know so many years ago, less naïve, less scared of my own desires._ Hmm _?_ ”

“Conflicting emotions,” Gast taps a rhythm over his own heart with the palm of his hand, “yearning, yearning, hungry heart.”

He holds out his hand for the cigarette.

Taneleer shakes his head. He puffs on it, and then grabs Gast by his shirt’s collar. Twisting Gast’s tie around his knuckles, Taneleer yanks him close. Dropping the tie, he grabs Gast’s chin. Sticking his thumb and middle finger into Gast’s mouth, he opens it and passes the smoke into Gast’s mouth straight from his own. Gast takes it in deep, smiling with his eyes closed. Tanleer sticks his tongue into Gast’s mouth then bites his lips, this dry bite but something you feel, something that makes your lips tingle afterwards.

Gast shakes his head at his brother with a large closed-mouth grin.

Taneleer gives him a humorless wink, his pupils blown out. Flicks a thumb over the head of Gast’s cock.

Gast wraps his calloused hand around Loki’s cock. He strokes it four times and Loki’s flat belly twitches each time, muscles jumping under the pale naked skin. Then, Gast fingers the head, smearing hot pre-cum all over it.

Loki yelps.

Taneleer covers Loki’s mouth with the hand that still holds the cigarette.

Loki’s large pupils twinkle amongst the unfurling columns of smoke that set his face into blurriness.

Gast pulls his hand back. Wipes it on Loki’s belly.

This time, he addresses Thor.

“He wants to be watched, this beauty,” he says.

Taneleer takes his hand off Loki’s mouth and covers Loki’s eyes, fingers sliding all the way under his glasses, heavy gold rings catching the blurry lights.

“And _you_ ,” Gast smiles at Thor, “you perverted older brother, you. You like to watch your little brother taking us in deep—”

Does he? The thought crosses Thor’s mind. He wants to say no but truth is, he’s been standing there watching them manhandling his little brother for the past ten minutes with a very persistent hard on.

“How about you—” Gast pauses for dramatic effect, “step inside. Close that door behind you—”

Gast slips his fingers into Loki’s hair. He removes the pins holding Loki’s hair up. It tumbles in large shiny waves down Loki’s shoulders and Gast bites down on a strand before passing it between his lips and rubbing it all across his cheek, getting Loki’s scent all over his razor-burned tan skin.

Setting the pins on the desk: “learn a secret. One that’s best to hide from the aging mom and dad as they near their final years. Some things you should take to the grave, that’s what they say.”

Cigarette sticking out the corner of his mouth, Taneleer slips back into Loki.

Loki gasps and covers the large hand that’s covering his eyes with his own hand, to hold on to something while his knees go weak on him.

Gast smiles slow at Thor.

Thor bites his lips.

Paper crackles.

Thor stepped on the sheet of paper when he walked in.

He closes the door behind him and reaches for his belt.

**Author's Note:**

> https://lokidreamsinbw.tumblr.com/


End file.
